“Love is always forgiving.”
The main reasons I felt compelled to give The Two-Family House a try was thanks to the promise of Jewish families, friendships between women, pregnancy, and so much more being the center in this family saga.
Brooklyn, 1947: In the midst of a blizzard, in a two-family brownstone, two babies are born, minutes apart. The mothers are sisters by marriage: dutiful, quiet Rose, who wants nothing more than to please her difficult husband; and warm, generous Helen, the exhausted mother of four rambunctious boys who seem to need her less and less each day. Raising their families side by side, supporting one another, Rose and Helen share an impenetrable bond forged before and during that dramatic winter night.
Following the Berman family in the two-family house in Brooklyn from 1947 to 1970, we get to hear from six main points of view: Rose, Helen, Mort, Abe, Judith, and Natalie. And the author greatly succeeded in giving each of them a distinctly singular voice.
I do have to admit, though, that I had some trouble getting into the book at first because there were quite a lot of chapters at first from the husband’s pov, which I didn’t really care for. But when we reached that terrifying night when both mothers had to give birth minutes apart, the story picked up immensely for me. I quickly realized I began enjoying myself when I wasn’t paying attention to the page number; I was just reading and immersing myself in the book and the lives of the Berman family. (P.S. bonus points for their last name because I used to live on a street called the same.)
Speaking of, I have so many thoughts and feelings when it comes to this book that I think it’s for the best to compile a list (which will contain *spoilers *):
- I’ll never grow tired of books mentioning superstitions and the like:
“What’s so funny?”
“You never met my grandmother; she died before I met Abe. Anyway, she was from the old country, very stubborn, very superstitious. You couldn’t put a hat on the bed, you couldn’t eat only one olive—she believed all that stuff. She used to say that if a pregnant woman wanted a girl, she should never eat the end of the bread, only the middle. And if she wanted a boy, she should only eat the end.”
Since both Rose and Helen are due in January (1948), they get to go through this pregnancy process together. And so they did till the very last ghastly day when they’re to give birth at home at the same time in a damn blizzard with only one midwife available to attend to them both… seems to be one of the most terrifying things.
“When Judith tried to recall specific details, she felt like she was looking at a distant scene through the glass of a snow globe. Their house and all the people in it were tucked safely inside. But she couldn’t see anything clearly because the flakes were in constant motion, covering the house and refusing to settle to the bottom. No matter what angle she approached from, she could never get an unobstructed view.”
Now, I have to mention that the whip-smart writing, as you can read in the above paragraph, completely enchanted me. Loigman has a real way with words and extremely vivid imagery, to borrow her own phrasing.
- Circling back to that night of horrors, that moment when the mothers decided, without any previous discussion, to switch babies was a pivotal experience.
“Judith took one of the babies from her mother and rocked it in her arms. “Oh my gosh, I completely forgot!” Judith said. “Which is which? I mean, which one is my cousin and which is my…?” Her aunt and mother looked at each other for what seemed like a very long time. Her mother answered first. “You’re holding your cousin Natalie.” Then her mother gestured toward the baby she was holding and spoke very softly. “This is your brother, Theodore.”
But it was fascinating how we got to read the most important scene in the book through the eyes of Rose’s twelve-year-old daughter, Judith. It made the whole experience seem murkier, like it was both distant and close-by.
Also, shout out to the author for naming one of the babies Natalie (guaranteed to make me like a character even just a tiny bit more).
- After that night we get to see the families grow and expand while trying to deal with everything thrown their way. From Judith getting into college (“Her name was on a list, and whether the list meant rejection or acceptance, in the moments before she opened the envelopes she was overcome with relief that she existed somewhere outside the boundaries of her everyday life and that her name and person were as indisputably real as anyone else’s.”) to Natalie and Teddy growing up together while their mothers are growing apart. It seemed to me that I loved nearly everything in this part, especially Judith’s coming of age and Natalie’s supportiveness as a friend to her cousin and best friend, Teddy. “She never lets Teddy figure out she knows more than he does.” She was so good for him.
- But on a less positive note, I had trouble reconciling with Rose’s character development. I could wholeheartedly get behind the idea that she was done acting a certain way to please her judgemental husband (more on him in a bit) and even when she was made out to be the antihero in the story, I could get the viewpoint. But then Rose gets dropped out of the storyline towards the end because of the way she was acting and that was what left me bewildered. I had grown a lot with her character ever since that blizzard night in 1947. And the toll that dark day took on Rose was a lot to take in. “Even the most skillful tailor couldn’t hide a seam once a cloth was torn in two.”
In a lot of ways, the irreversible nature of whatever had occurred between the two women was like getting to watch a bewitching character study, and not only with the two, but the way it affected the whole family. So when Rose decided to move away from everyone, and we didn’t get to see her anymore save for one brief moment at the very end, I was visually disappointed. It was like the author said best when describing another character: “After that, she had faded into the background, her personality hazy and her role in the family vague.”
- Rose’s husband, Mort, it turns out, is kind of the root of the problem where that night in 1947 is concerned. Rose was so stressed to deliver a baby boy because she knew Mort wouldn’t accept anything else after having three girls (which is just a whole new level of messed up). It’s at this part that I was reminded of the year this story is set in. Funnily enough, I kept forgetting this was supposed to be historical fiction until gender roles and sexism were inserted… mostly from Rose’s morbid husband, Mort. Which was when Rose realized something too little too late concerning her husband: “Mort would never be happy. There was no test she could pass that would change him.” He was the epitome of nearly everything I can detest in a person. And though I’m appreciative that he changed his ways with the years, thanks to Natalie, I never could quite get behind supporting him because this passage from Rose would always remain at the back of my mind:
“She hadn’t known what it was until it wasn’t there. The daily dread of being judged, of being measured and found lacking in some way, no matter how small, was a burden she carried, compact and profound. It was a too-heavy purse, worn and comfortable on her shoulder, which she did not know the weight of until she set it down.”
- In addition to the main storyline of motherhood, we have a lot of underlying themes concerning grief, resentment, strength, love, anxiety, and family. And I cherished getting to see each and every one develop.
“Some things we just have to accept,” he told her. Judith followed her father’s gaze across the room to where her mother was sitting alone, looking as grim as possible. He turned back to Judith and finished his thought out loud. “So we can save our strength for other problems.”
- I ended up discussing the plot of Rose and Helen switching babies with my mom, who brought up an interesting parallel: The Judgment of Solomon. Which was all I could think about when similar things seemed to lead to the same argument of both claiming to be the mother of a child. And I was only more secure in this parallel when I read this next passage from Helen’s husband:
“He was dreaming that he was back at the hotel, in the hallway outside the coatroom. Helen and Rose were arguing, something about Natalie. Rose didn’t like what Natalie was wearing. She didn’t like her own dress either. Helen said there was nothing she could do about it. “But you took my dress,” Rose yelled. “Give it back to me!” “It’s mine,” Helen told her. “You can’t have it.” Rose wouldn’t let it go, and the screaming became louder. “You have two dresses and I have none. You were supposed to give one of them to me. But you never let that happen!” After that, Abe woke up.”
- Which leads me to Natalie, who was one of the more fascinating characters for me to read since we get to see her growth from a newborn baby to an independent twenty-year-old mathematics scholar. And I just couldn’t have been prouder of her. She was caring and daring and brave, and I’m all tears for everything she carried on her shoulders.
“We always think our own grief is the worst—worse than everybody else’s. But the truth is, we never know for sure what the people around us are feeling. I have had some bad things happen, but then a lot of wonderful things happened to me, too. An awful thing happened to you yesterday. But you mustn’t let it ruin the happiness that lies ahead for you, dear.”
- In the end, I’m just beyond grateful to have found a character-driven book centered around a Jewish family that focuses heavily on the family bonds with little to no romantic aspects thrown in. And I’m more than ready for any future works by the author!!
The Two-Family House is the first read in a while where I stayed up late into the night reading, seemingly unable to stop. It not only changed my outlook on so many things, but it also brought me sheer joy just from watching the Berman family grow and develop. My feelings were at times so intense that I was brought to actual tears.
Also, I listened to this song on repeat during those parts; it captures and enhances the atmosphere of each heartbreaking scene that more:
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